


Kitsune no Yomeiri

by manic_intent



Series: Kitsunetsuki [3]
Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Kitsune, Kitsune!Jin, M/M, Tanuki!Ryuzo, That kitsune AU but with more teen!tenko shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: Being declared ‘off-limits’ by a tenko child had been funny at first—for about a month. Ryuzo amused himself by sneaking up on Jin and pulling the zenko into playful embraces, only for Jin to yelp, blush, fluff up in horror and escape by any means necessary. One memorable incident involved Jin jumping into a lake and swimming off, while Ryuzo laughed on the viewing pavilion until he cried.
Relationships: Sakai Jin/Ryuzo
Series: Kitsunetsuki [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891603
Comments: 11
Kudos: 79





	Kitsune no Yomeiri

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beingevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingevil/gifts).



> Donation prompt by @beingevil, who asked for a Ghost of Tsushima / continuation to the Kitsunetsuki series, featuring baby/teen/adult tenko Sakai and mochi.

Being declared ‘off-limits’ by a tenko child had been funny at first—for about a month. Ryuzo amused himself by sneaking up on Jin and pulling the zenko into playful embraces, only for Jin to yelp, blush, fluff up in horror and escape by any means necessary. One memorable incident involved Jin jumping into a lake and swimming off, while Ryuzo laughed on the viewing pavilion until he cried. 

As the weeks passed, it grew less funny. There wasn’t much to do in the Divine Realm, especially with it still wholly sealed off. Most of the kitsune were curious or polite but didn’t want to chance offending their tenko by getting too friendly. Kurobo made himself scarce, Jin started to look so desperately uncomfortable around Ryuzo that even teasing him made Ryuzo feel guilty, and Sakai spent most of his time cloistered with his uncle. Ryuzo took long walks by himself and napped under ever-blossoming sakura trees, heartily bored. 

“Ryuzo!” Ryuzo looked over as Sakai rushed over and plopped himself on top of Ryuzo’s chest.

“Oof,” Ryuzo grunted, making a show of gasping and wheezing. “Wah, Lord Sakai must have put on weight? Too much good eating in the Divine Realm.” 

Sakai pouted, his golden ears pricking up even as his brush of a tail curled over Ryuzo’s arm. “I don’t eat any more than usual. Not like you.” 

“There’s nothing else to do here but eat,” Ryuzo said, stretching out over the sweet-smelling grass and stroking Sakai’s head. “I’m going to die of boredom at this rate.” 

“Die?” Sakai gasped. His eyes began to well up. “Is that a t-tanuki thing?”

“Oi, oi,” Ryuzo said, as thunder rolled overhead. “Haven’t you been training? Stop that.” 

“Training?” 

“Whatever you’ve been doing with your uncle—”

“Oh. No, I’ve been trying to heal him.” Sakai’s ears flattened down over his head. “The injuries he suffered from the war against the yatagarasu and the incursions since. They’re getting worse. I don’t know what I’m meant to be doing so it’s not helping, I wish my mother were still here, and now you’re going to die too?” Tears rolled down Sakai’s cheek. It began to rain, lightning crackling through the gathering crowds. 

“Hoi! I was joking! Joking!” Ryuzo yelped, sitting up hastily and cuddling the child against him. “It’s a figure of speech. Didn’t you say you wouldn’t cry over small things anymore?” 

“How is that meant to be a small thing?” Sakai demanded, sniffling and burying his face in Ryuzo’s shoulder. 

“At least stop the rain,” Ryuzo said, as the cold shower splashed fat, wet drops over the grass. “Calm down. Shh, shh. Does your uncle cause a storm whenever he gets upset?” 

“He compresses it,” Sakai muttered, though the rain began to abate into a drizzle. “When he’s angry, the air around him freezes.” 

“That’s not too bad,” Ryuzo said, recalling the swollen river downstream of the snake. 

“Kurobo said he got frostbite once from it, and he was only passing by. Our mother was still alive at that point, though, so she healed him before telling off our uncle.” 

“Must be rough for everyone, losing someone like that,” Ryuzo said, stroking Sakai’s back until the boy relaxed. “Worse for you.”

“Me?”

“Well,” Ryuzo said, shifting back against the tree and cradling Sakai against him, “you don’t even get to remember her, and everyone expects you to live up to her? That’s rough. Isn’t even fair. You don’t get to live your own life—you don’t even get to have a childhood.” 

“I’m not a child,” Sakai said, though he sounded contemplative.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying, but you look like a child and act like one. Worse, since you’re being treated like a God instead of the boy you are, you’re turning into a little monster,” Ryuzo said, poking Sakai in the cheek. “Why isn’t your uncle setting you any boundaries? Surely your mother did for him when he was reborn.” 

Sakai frowned up at Ryuzo. “What do you mean by boundaries?”

“You making it rain giant tuna out of nowhere?” 

“I can’t help that yet,” Sakai said, though he looked embarrassed. 

“What about this ‘off-limits’ edict, hm?” Ryuzo pinched Sakai’s cheek. “You thinking that it’s all right to act like a little emperor where other people are concerned. Didn’t you tell me you were sorry about nearly smiting me when you were upset? This is the same thing.” 

Sakai clutched at Ryuzo’s kimono, his ears drooping. “I don’t want you to like anyone else but me.” 

“I’m not going to like any of you at this point, since you’ve made everyone else too afraid to even talk to me,” Ryuzo grumbled. At Sakai’s gasp, Ryuzo tickled him behind his ears. “You don’t even get to feel upset about that. It’s your doing.” 

“I’ll lift the edict,” Sakai said, though he sounded unhappy about it, “and I’ll talk to my uncle about ‘boundaries’.” 

“Good start,” Ryuzo said, petting Sakai approvingly. “Maybe there’s a chance that you’d grow up to be less of a disaster.” 

Sakai let out a soft laugh. “You’re the only one here who dares to talk to me like this.” 

“Not even your uncle?” 

“I still don’t remember much of anything from before I met you,” Sakai said, frowning to himself, “and as to the time since… my uncle isn’t well. I don’t want to stress him.”

“Probably didn’t help that he had to tear open a hole in the divine seal to get to us.” 

“Whatever the yatagarasu did to open the way to the mortal world from their part of the Divine Realm has permanently damaged the seal. But yes, creating a second breach in the same area, however small, didn’t help matters.” 

“I asked Kurobo about this, but he wasn’t accommodating,” Ryuzo said, pulling over a stick and tracing a circle in the soil. “So there’s the Mortal Realms, where us yōkai and the humans live. Then there’s the Divine Realm, which is… above it?”

“Overlaid over it.” Sakai took the branch and drew a second circle neatly over Ryuzo’s. “They exist in the same space, but in adjacent realities. The dimensional membrane between the mortal and divine realm is what you know as the ‘divine seal’—forged a long time ago by the Sakura Dragon.” 

“The way Kurobo and Jin talked about ‘downstream’ and ‘upstream’ made me think the Divine Realm was literally just at the top of a waterfall or something.” 

“Not at all,” Sakai said with a faint smile, “and yet, something like that. The Divine Realm exists in symbiosis with the Mortal Realms. As long as this place remains fertile and prosperous, so do its blessings flow ‘downstream’, affecting the worlds that it coexists with. Through the seal.” 

“If the dragons made the seal, then why did it only close off recently?” Ryuzo asked. 

“It was porous before, but not entirely—divine creatures and celestials could move freely between the realms, but anyone else from the lower realms could not. The yatagarasu closed it when they attacked us again. Not even my uncle knows how they managed it. Or why they chose to breach it instead of lifting it to get through to the Mortal Realms. Perhaps their act of closing it was permanent.” 

“You still managed to get swept off a waterfall,” Ryuzo said. 

“Jin thinks that they didn’t know there were still two tenko—during that attack, they concentrated on fighting my uncle. He said that when I tried to help, they knocked me off the falls and sealed the realms to stop my uncle from getting to me. If Kurobo and Jin hadn’t immediately jumped over after me, they’d have been trapped in here too.” 

“I suppose they hoped they could find you by yourself in the Mortal Realms and finish the job,” Ryuzo guessed. At Sakai’s slow nod, Ryuzo said, “Lucky for you that Inari Ōkami was looking out for cute little tenko kids.” He chucked Sakai playfully under the chin. 

“Lucky that I met you,” Sakai said, looking up at Ryuzo adoringly. 

Ryuzo laughed. For all the grief that he’d been put through since meeting Sakai, at least the kid was cute.

#

“It’s going to make a mess,” Jin said, blushing but with laughter in his eyes.

“Isn’t that the point?” Ryuzo asked, grinning mischievously as he leaned in. He paused as Jin touched his fingertips to Ryuzo’s chin to stop him. 

“Lord Sakai isn’t going to like this,” Jin said, though he didn’t shift away from being pressed between Ryuzo and the wall tree behind him. 

“He lifted that stupid edict years ago,” Ryuzo pointed out. Not that it’d made much of an immediate difference. It’d taken months for Jin and Kurobo to act normally around Ryuzo again, and even then, there were still moments of reserve. At least a few of the other kitsune had become friendlier over the years, or Ryuzo would’ve tried jumping off the falls himself. Sadly, Ryuzo’s sex life hadn’t improved much over the years. Only Jin could be tempted into a tumble now and then, though he was always so furtive about it. 

“He’s at the most delicate part of the life cycle,” Jin said. 

“Really? I thought the worst was over,” Ryuzo said, though he didn’t have much experience dealing with children, let alone divine children. “He’s stopped crying all the time. Doesn’t even rain that often here any longer, save when it’s supposed to. It’s been at least four months since he accidentally destroyed something.” It hadn’t even been Ryuzo’s fault—one of the kitsune kids had wished for snow, and the resultant blizzard caused a roof to collapse. 

“Don’t you remember what it was like being a teenager?” Jin asked, amused. 

“No?” Childhood was a long time ago for Ryuzo. He’d spent much of it wandering around with a pack of other yōkai kids, calling themselves the Straw Hats, getting into trouble. “Besides, he’s been a teenager for a while. So far, things don’t appear that different.” 

“I suppose you’d find out,” Jin said, which wasn’t very helpful. Or reassuring. 

As Ryuzo frowned, Jin tugged him over, lips parting invitingly. Ryuzo grinned, popping the mochi in his hands between his teeth and pressing it between them as they kissed, biting down. Jin moaned, his fingers tickling up over Ryuzo’s cheek as the sweet bean paste stuffing burst between their lips, the sticky treat compressing between their tongues. As Ryuzo rubbed against Jin and pressed him to the tree, Jin’s red tails curled teasingly against his knees. Promising. Ryuzo hummed, kneading Jin’s pert ass—only to choke on the rest of the mochi in his mouth as the ground shook beneath his feet. 

Coughing and gasping, Ryuzo grabbed onto Jin and the tree. “The Divine Realm gets earthquakes?” Ryuzo yelped. 

“Not naturally!” Jin looked around wildly and squeezed out of Ryuzo’s grasp, sprinting away from the grove of trees. Ryuzo caught up with Jin by the newly-shattered bridge over a mountain stream. The zenko knelt prostrate on the grass, forehead pressed to the ground, ears flat against his skull and his tails tucked against his belly. Before him, Sakai stood with his hands clenched tightly beside his flanks, his robes and dark hair floating in a crackling aura of energy around him, eyes burning golden with rage. 

“Hoi!” Despite every instinct in Ryuzo calling for him to turn and run, Ryuzo stalked over and grabbed Sakai by the shoulders. The hair on his arms stood on end, his skull humming uncomfortably—then Sakai blinked, the aura fading. “What is _wrong_ with you?” Ryuzo demanded.

Sakai glared at Ryuzo’s mouth, still dusted with sweetened powder. The boy hadn’t yet hit his growth spurt—he’d grown to eye-level on Ryuzo’s chest, though he’d started to resemble his brothers more now that he was older. No longer just wearing a child’s kimono, he wore an enchanted set of gold and black armour under his robes, with a set of engraved bracers and greaves. “That’s mine,” Sakai grit out.

“The mochi? Lots more where it came from,” Ryuzo said, having only stolen a few pieces from the kitchen. “What’s with you kitsune and mochi and earthquakes?” 

“I didn’t mean the mochi.” Sakai leant up, lips parting, just as Ryuzo belatedly realised what the boy was up to and shoved him back a step. 

“ _Sakai_ ,” Ryuzo snapped. 

“You still treat me like a child,” Sakai said, the air beginning to crackle around him again with raw power. 

“If you don’t want to be treated like a child, then don’t act like a spoiled brat anymore!” Ryuzo snarled at him. Sakai flinched back as though struck, wide-eyed—Ryuzo had never used such a sharp tone with him before. The energy in the air dissipated, even as Sakai turned around with a stifled sound and fled. 

Ryuzo exhaled loudly. He glanced down at Jin, who hadn’t moved, and nudged his shoulder gently. “He’s gone,” Ryuzo said.

Jin got up on one knee slowly, averting his eyes. “I should not have done that,” Jin said. 

“Haah? How is it now your fault?” 

“Ryuzo…” Jin trailed off uncomfortably. He ignored Ryuzo’s outstretched hand as he got to his feet. “Lord Sakai loves you.” 

“Well, I know that, but—”

“Knowing that, it was remiss of me to do what I did.” Jin’s tails twitched back and forth against his knees. “I’ll apologise to him. Thank you, however. For intervening.” 

“What does that have to do with me? Besides, he’s still a boy,” Ryuzo said, annoyed. “Was this what you meant about teenagers? Gods, is he going to be even worse than he was before? If so, let me out of here. I’m going home.” 

Jin looked at Ryuzo anxiously. “Don’t make jokes like that.” 

“Who said I’m joking?” Ryuzo shot back, and stomped off to find something to drink. 

The kitsune section of the Divine Realm was bigger than Ryuzo’s usual favourite wandering ground in the Mortal Realms, but not by that much. Castle Shimura, the lake, and Minamoto Palace occupied only a fraction of the Realm, with the rest a rich forest of ancient trees, hidden nooks, abandoned buildings, and brilliant streams. 

Parts of the Divine domains were sealed off. The Sakura Gate that led to where the dragons used to live was now inaccessible for reasons nobody had been willing to explain. The Minamoto Gate that was meant to lead to the Mortal Realms opened to nowhere. Other gates that led to Yomi and to the halfway realms where the yatagarasu and the other divine servants had retreated to were plastered over with pulsing curse-seals that the tenko refreshed every few months. 

Ryuzo had long learned that if he didn’t want to be found, the cave warren near the Sakura Gate was his best bet to lie low. The kitsune didn’t like venturing into the damp chill that permeated the air near the Gate, nor did they like descending into the dark cave system. Ryuzo wandered past familiar twists and turns until he found the quiet nook he was looking for and lay on the rock shelf that he’d padded out with old clothes, drinking sake from a gourd. 

The last time he’d stayed down here for two days after getting annoyed at one of Sakai’s tantrums years ago, Ryuzo had emerged to find Sakai in a panic, an exasperated Lord Shimura, and part of the Divine Realm flooded. So much for being able to entirely suppress another tenko, or whatever it was that Tamamo no Mae used to do to her brother. Curling his tail around himself, Ryuzo shifted around until he got comfortable, popping the last of the mochi into his mouth. Damn. If that earthquake didn’t scare Jin off permanently, Ryuzo would be surprised. Was Ryuzo going to be virtually celibate for the near future? That was going to be fun. Not. 

Grumbling to himself about spoiled brats and foxes, Ryuzo curled up and went to sleep.

#

Flute music tickled Ryuzo’s ears awake. He yawned, twisting onto his flank. The music stopped as Ryuzo sat up and rubbed his eyes—and gawked. A human sat cross-legged on a large rock close to the alcove, a flute in her hands. No. Not human. Her soft face reflected an unearthly delicate beauty, while scarves floated in the air around her white and brown robes. Ryuzo couldn’t place her age—she looked like a young maiden. A drab brown long-necked bird about the size of a chicken sat on her shoulders, eyeing Ryuzo with surprising disdain for a small creature.

“A bake-danuki,” said the not!human. “I haven’t seen one of your kind before.” 

“As far as I’m aware, I’m the only one to have ever come to the Divine Realm,” Ryuzo said, watching her warily. “Not by choice.” 

“Another kitsune ploy?” The woman glanced at the bird, who ruffled its feathers and looked away. She smiled at Ryuzo with a little more warmth. “I am Magokoro, and this is my companion Setsuko.” 

“Ryuzo. Uh. You’re not human, are you?”

“You mean you can’t tell?” Magokoro asked, amused—then she looked a little ashamed. “Ah, I’m sorry. That was rude. Forgive me.” 

Ryuzo laughed. “Don’t mention it. Do you know, you’re the first person I remember in quite a while to apologise to me for being rude? Usually, I get snide comments about my ignorance.” 

“Typical kitsune,” said Setsuko. She laughed as Ryuzo flinched and stared at the bird. “Yes, amazing, phoenixes can talk. You’d think it isn’t that surprising, given we’re effectively immortal creatures that can self-immolate if we want to, but everyone always acts so shocked that we can speak.” 

“If you’re a phoenix, then…” Ryuzo studied the woman. “You must be one of the tennyo.” 

“Not bad,” Magokoro said, smiling warmly. “So you have heard the tales.” 

“Now and then. What are the two of you doing here? I thought the kitsune banished all the other celestials from this part of the Divine Realm.” 

Setsuko sniffed loudly, even as Magokoro said, “We’ve been here since the dragons were here. Not all of us are so easily banished.” 

“So you’ve been stuck in these caves all this while?” That couldn’t have been fun. 

“Not exactly. The dragons were very open with their secrets,” Magokoro said. 

“Part of the problem, really,” Setsuko grumbled. “Probably why that rain dragon thought it’d be fine to teach forbidden knowledge to a yōkai. No offence,” she added, with a glance at Ryuzo. 

“So you know how to get out of here?” Ryuzo asked, sitting up. “Back to the Mortal Realms?” 

Magokoro nodded, though she gave Ryuzo a look of surprise. “Why would you want to go back? Even as it is now, isn’t the Divine Realm a far more perfect plane of existence?” 

“Don’t assume,” Setsuko told her, grooming her hair. “The foxes trapped this tanuki here, remember? He just said he didn’t come here out of choice. Why wouldn’t he want to go home?” 

Magokoro blushed, averting her eyes. “Oh… yes. I’m sorry. Would you like to return home? I could try and arrange it.” 

To go home! To return to the river Ryuzo loved, and lie in the sun, and no longer have to worry about whether he was going to trigger another natural disaster accidentally. It ached to think about it. The years here had occasionally been challenging, but Ryuzo had grown fond of some of the kitsune. Especially Jin and Kurobo. As to Sakai—

Ryuzo glanced between Magokoro and Setsuko. “Not right now. Are you as strong as one of the tenko?”

Magokoro looked surprised at the question. “No, of course not. Not at all. Tennyo like me used to serve the dragons. A single tenko and her kin wiped them out.” Magokoro looked down at her hands, saddened. “I lost many friends that day. Not just the mistress I served, but the other divine servants who tried to protect her. Had our leader not decided to call a retreat, we might all have died.” 

Ryuzo made a face. “Well, in that case. Best you don’t talk to me anymore.” He got up from the alcove, dusting off his clothes. “The two of you seem nice, and I’d rather not get nice people killed by accident.” 

“How so?” Magokoro asked. 

“The tenko are possessive,” Ryuzo said, “and besides, the two of you are kind of trespassing.” 

“ _They_ are trespassing. I was born here,” Setsuko muttered, but settled down as Magokoro tickled under her chin. 

“I’m not that afraid of them,” Magokoro said, “but I appreciate your concern.” She wiped down her flute, then walked over and handed it over. “Here. I like you. If you ever feel like talking to me again, come here and play a tune.” 

“It’d be a terrible one,” Ryuzo said, though he hid the flute in his clothes. 

“I look forward to hearing it, then.” Magokoro bowed and turned, gliding into the dark. Ryuzo scratched his jaw, briefly tempted to follow them. He made his way back up to the surface instead, whistling to himself. 

It grew colder the further he walked from the Sakura Gate until Ryuzo was cursing and shivering in the unseasonal snap. Sakai again? Snow weighed down the trees he passed, growing knee-deep as Ryuzo forged closer down to the main paths. As Ryuzo crossed a bridge over an iced-over river, Kurobo appeared abruptly beside him. The yako looked tired, his black tails twitching behind him as he grabbed Ryuzo by the shoulders. 

“You’re back,” Kurobo said, his voice thick with relief. “Are you all right?” 

“I just took a short nap,” Ryuzo said with a snort, looking around at the deep winter. “Don’t tell me Sakai did this just because of that. I can’t have been gone longer than a few hours.” 

“A few hours?” Kurobo repeated, frowning. “Ryuzo, you’ve been gone for a _year_. Jin thought that you’d somehow found a way out, that you were in the Mortal Realms. He volunteered to leave and look for you if they opened a breach, but Lord Shimura forbade it. The tenko argued, and.” Kurobo gestured helplessly at the winter. “The result.” 

Ryuzo rubbed at his temple. “I’d think that you were joking, except I have a bad feeling you’re not.” 

“Where did you take this nap of yours?”

“In the caves near the Sakura Gate,” Ryuzo said, hoping that Magokoro and her friend had already gotten clear. Though. Were they the reason behind Ryuzo having lost a year? They hadn’t struck Ryuzo as malicious people, though he wasn’t always a great judge of character. 

“I’ll get someone to look into it. In the meantime. Come.” As though afraid that Ryuzo would try to run off, Kurobo kept a firm grip on Ryuzo’s arm, dragging him through the snow. 

Sakai sat with his back to them near the edge of a cliff under a willow tree drowning under the snow, overlooking the red torii Gate to the Mortal Realms. As they approached, he said, “I don’t wish to be disturbed.” 

Ryuzo waved Kurobo off and walked over. As he got closer, Sakai glanced up in annoyance. “I said—” He gasped, growing very pale. Sakai looked thinner, his face harder, the golden fur of his tail missing some of its lustre. He’d grown taller during the year, though—grown to Ryuzo’s shoulders. There was still a boyish softness to his face, giving him the transitory, unfinished look of someone caught on the cusp of adulthood.

Ryuzo’s chest clenched up, even as he said lightly, “Well, if you’d rather sulk up here than talk to me, fine. I’ll go.” 

“Ryuzo!” Sakai jerked up to his feet. He took a tentative step closer. Ryuzo held out his arms, and Sakai flung himself into them, hugging Ryuzo tightly and starting to sniffle. Ryuzo cast a wary glance up at the sky out of habit, but it stayed clear. As Ryuzo murmured soothingly and stroked Sakai’s back, the snow began to melt off the trees and grass, the sun growing warmer. 

“You still scare me,” Ryuzo said, staring at the rapid advancement of the unnatural winter into an artificial spring. Sakai’s arms tightened around him. 

“Sorry,” Sakai mumbled in between sobs. 

Ryuzo pinched his cheek. “Hoi, have you started crying even when you’re happy? Shh. Quiet down.” Ryuzo petted Sakai until Sakai stopped trembling, his breaths slowing down, though he refused to let go. 

“How did you get out?” Sakai mumbled. 

“I didn’t. After you had your earthquake mochi tantrum, I went to take a nap in a cave. When I came back out, things were snowed under, and Kurobo said I’d been gone for a year?” Ryuzo rested his chin on top of Sakai’s head. “The Divine Realm is too weird.” 

“That shouldn’t be possible. I’ll mention it to my uncle,” Sakai said, sounding surprised. 

“Speaking of which, I heard you argued with him, hm?” Ryuzo pinched the furry tip of one of Sakai’s ears and tugged. “Should you be stressing out someone who’s still in recovery? Or is he fine now?” 

Sakai stiffened. “Don’t talk about him further,” Sakai muttered. “He said you were unworthy of my time.” 

“Compared to the well-being of the Realms?” Ryuzo said, chuckling. When Sakai growled and didn’t answer, Ryuzo said, “Is this another adolescent thing? Come on, you know he’s right. This fight that you’re having with him is ridiculous. Especially if things grew worse downstream due to this eternal winter rubbish up here.” 

“He didn’t have to be so hurtful about it!” 

“You probably didn’t have to get this angry either,” Ryuzo said, though he was beginning to see Jin’s distant point about life cycles. “Look. There was a misunderstanding, and I’m back. Go patch things up with your uncle. Apologise.” 

“Why?” Sakai flared. “He should apologise to _me_.”

“Would that ever happen? He’s your uncle. Effectively your father at that, since he raised you,” Ryuzo said, having seen this over his time in the realms. “He’d sooner pretend it never happened.” Parents. “Calm down and think it through. Don’t be a brat.”

“You…!” Jin reddened. As Ryuzo braced for another tantrum, Jin began to laugh instead, snuggling close again, his tail curling around them both. “I missed you so much. Even your scolding.” 

“If you did, go talk to your uncle and patch things up.” 

“I thought you didn’t like him.” 

“He isn’t so bad,” Ryuzo said, for while Lord Shimura was irascible, annoying, and arrogant, he did appear to take his role as a lord of the Divine Realms seriously. “I’m going to wait for you here until you do.” 

Sakai tensed. “I don’t want to let you out of my sight.” 

“Where am I going to go, hm? It isn’t as though I have a way out of here,” Ryuzo said, gently prying Sakai off him. “Go. I’ll wait.” Sakai looked as though he were about to object, but at Ryuzo’s pointed stare, he ducked his head and sprinted off through the wet grass. 

Ryuzo sat down on the edge of the cliff, dangling his legs into the air. “Kurobo,” he said, even though he didn’t sense anyone behind him. 

“Yes,” Kurobo said, kneeling by his side. 

“Is Jin all right?” 

“Not really. He thinks this was his fault.” 

Ryuzo exhaled. “I’ll talk to him after this.” 

“Do you…” Kurobo trailed off with uncharacteristic hesitation.

“Do I what?” 

“Do you love Jin?” 

Ryuzo laughed. “Not the way you’re thinking. Despite everything, I like him a lot. You as well. Some of the rest too. Yuna’s a lot of fun, for example. How’s she?” 

“Doing well, all things considered,” Kurobo said, and updated Ryuzo on the year. Midway through discussing one of Yuna’s latest escapades, Kurobo looked alertly over his shoulder and disappeared. Ryuzo straightened up, even as moments later, Sakai embraced him from behind and buried his face against Ryuzo’s throat. 

“All better now?” Ryuzo asked. 

“Not exactly, but it’s a start.” 

“Well,” Ryuzo said, patting Sakai’s arms, “I suppose since I’ve apparently been asleep for a year, I should get something to eat _fromthekitchens_.” Too late—the stream below the cliff began to boil with a thick braid of writhing eels, followed by a rain of large mackerel. As a giant black pig surged out of the stream and eyed Ryuzo with an air of solemn fatalism, Ryuzo yelped, “Sakai! Stop, _stop._ ”

#

After a few months, Ryuzo’s curiosity got the better of him. Leaving Sakai a letter explaining things and warning him not to overreact, Ryuzo collected a bundle of mochi, sake, and whatever else he could steal from the kitchens and descended back into the caves. His first attempt playing the flute in the alcove emerged as a harsh, flat note. As his second and third attempts grated away into the dark, a woman said, “Enough, enough. My poor ears.”

Ryuzo stiffened. That didn’t sound like Magokoro. Another tennyo stepped out into the circle of light cast by Ryuzo’s lantern, a phoenix crouched on her shoulder. Her ageless face was stern, her gaze cold as she surveyed Ryuzo, her long hair bound loosely at her shoulders and tinted with dark blue highlights. She wore red and white armour over her robes, a pair of blades thrust through her obi. 

“Huh,” said the phoenix on her shoulder. It wasn’t Setsuko. “Is that what the yōkai look like? He has fluffy ears and a tail. I thought they’d be more monstrous.” 

“Don’t be rude, Mai,” the tennyo said. 

“Sorry, wrong tennyo, I think,” Ryuzo said, trying to sound unthreatening. “I was looking for Magokoro-san.” 

“We know. Magokoro described you to us. Made us curious.” The tennyo pointed at herself. “I am Masako. This is Mai. You’re Ryuzo.” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you afraid at all, little tanuki?” Masako asked. She smiled coldly. 

“Should I be? Magokoro-san didn’t seem so bad. I brought her some mochi, but since you’re here and not her… could you pass it to her?” Ryuzo asked, wondering whether he should just bolt. 

“Mochi,” Masako repeated, glancing at Mai. 

“Sticky rice cake thing, filled with sweet paste. Looks like an eyeball,” Mai said. 

As Masako’s lip curled in disgust, Ryuzo said, “Hoi. Don’t talk about mochi like that… wait, you’ve never eaten one before? How about you try one, then?” He took a step over to Masako. As she tensed up, Ryuzo slowly unwrapped the cloth package in his hand to reveal the fresh mochi. Holding up his free hand unthreateningly, he took another step closer. 

Masako inspected the mochi curiously, the phoenix hopping down to her arm for a closer look. “If you think it’s poisoned or something, I’ll eat one first,” Ryuzo said. 

“Tennyo aren’t affected by poison.” Masako picked up one of the mochi and ate it, chewing thoughtfully. Mai glanced at her, then hopped over to her wrist and stabbed one through with her beak, flicking it up into the air and swallowing it whole. “Not bad,” Masako conceded.

“It does not taste like an eyeball at all,” Mai said, sounding aggrieved. “I’m disappointed.” 

Ryuzo glowered at the phoenix. “It’s not meant to.” 

“I’ll hand it to her,” Masako said. She solemnly accepted the gifts Ryuzo brought, making them disappear up her sleeve. “You don’t seem like a bad sort. When we go to war against the tenko, I’ll remember that.” 

“Wait. What?” Ryuzo stared at her.

“They chased us from our home. Killed our friends and family. Is there any appropriate response but war?” Masako asked, her hand closing over the hilt of her katana. 

“Can you even defeat them? Just one tenko killed the dragons, didn’t she? There’s two now.”

“A legend killed the dragons. She’s dead now. As to the tenko who remain—one is a child, and the other is ailing. If the yatagarasu and the oni managed to kill Tamamo no Mae in her prime, I think we have a fair chance against the others.” 

“Won’t that just cause more death? More suffering? Besides, it won’t be as easy as you think. That ‘child’ causes earthquakes whenever he gets mildly upset. High winter when it’s worse. He’s… he’s as close to a God as I’ve ever seen. As to his uncle, even when he was at his weakest years back, I saw him kill one of the yatagarasu in a single strike. Do they sound like easy prey to you?” 

Masako drew herself up, though Ryuzo read hesitation in her eyes. “There must be a reckoning,” she said finally. 

“Hasn’t there been? The yatagarasu and their allies killed a lot of them during the last two attempts. Children, even. Besides, if you do somehow manage to murder the tenko, what then? Won’t it affect the realms downstream?” 

“He has a point,” Mai said. As Masako glanced at her, the phoenix said, “It’s what Magokoro and I were trying to tell you. You’d get a lot of us killed going down this path.” 

“Is this why she insisted that I come here and speak with a bake-danuki in her place?” Masako sniffed. “Strange envoy for the kitsune.” 

“I’m not an envoy. I’m barely friends with half of them,” Ryuzo said, with a dry laugh. “A lot of you celestials can’t seem to bring yourselves to like a yōkai, and the ones who do like me are often a trial on my patience.”

“Yet you’d counsel me to forgive them.” 

“Not at all. That’s up to you. I wouldn’t pretend to understand the kind of pain you’re carrying, because I’ve never felt it. I’d only counsel you to talk to them,” Ryuzo said, trying not to sound too hopeful. “Negotiate. Maybe there’s some way they can make reparations. Or allow you to move back here. The Divine Realm is huge, and it isn’t like they’re occupying all of it. Nobody wins in a war.” 

Masako glanced at Mai, who ruffled her feathers. The tension in her shoulders eased. “Perhaps. Talk to your tenko friends. Have them send a representative to me if they wish to negotiate. Not one of the tenko, and not you. Play the flute, and I will be here.” 

She turned to go and paused as Ryuzo asked, “Ah, one more thing. The last time I talked to Magokoro, I lost a year. Is that a tennyo thing, or…?”

“In a way,” Masako said, guarded. 

Ryuzo had a sinking feeling. “Have I lost time again?” He’d hoped that it hadn’t been the tennyo. 

“Not that much,” Masako said, which wasn’t reassuring. She vanished. 

Having been braced for another eternal winter on the way out, Ryuzo was relieved to feel the warmth of the sun on his face—until he noticed the dead grass, the withered trees. Has the tennyo already attacked? Horrified, Ryuzo sprinted down toward Minamoto Palace, dreading what he would see. 

Something landed on his back, throwing him face-first into the dried grass. As Ryuzo snarled and tried to get up, Yuna said, “I should just leash you to the palace, if things like this happen each time you disappear for a year.” 

Ryuzo shoved her off. The three-tailed yako grinned at him, her mischief unable to hide the relief in her eyes, her black ears perked up over her youthful face. Another year? Ryuzo rubbed at his temple. “I left a note.” 

“Oh, yes. Your famous letter.” Yuna rolled her eyes. “We spent months combing every inch of that stupid cave system because of it. I caught a cold during my turn. When you couldn’t be found, Lord Sakai grew convinced you’d died in one of the crevasses or worse, while Lord Shimura said you’d probably found a way to escape a long time ago and were just lying about it. They argued _again_ and here we are.” 

Ryuzo groaned. “What is wrong with you people?”

“Oi, oi. This had nothing to do with me. Thanks to you disappearing, however, we have drought in parts of the Divine Realm and wildfires downstream. Fun for everyone. How did you do it, anyway? We’ve got a betting pool running. Did you really escape?” 

“I…” Ryuzo hesitated. “I’ll tell you later. Best I speak to Sakai first and get this to stop.” 

“Good luck with that,” Yuna said with a sharp smile. “He’s moved out of Castle Shimura. Lives by himself in an old temple near the Yomi Gate.” 

“I know the place.” Ryuzo got up and broke into a run. With each barren tree he passed, he felt guiltier. Maybe he should’ve asked Masako about the time loss before talking to her. Or asked if she could somehow reverse it. As the temple came within sight, Ryuzo slowed down, panting. Gnarled black roots curled up from the cracked ground, enveloping the engawa and the walls of the pagoda, twisting through windows and bursting through the slate roofs. The air smelled stale and heavy as Ryuzo cautiously peered through the main entrance. It didn’t look lived in. 

“Sakai?” Ryuzo called out as he walked in, checking each room. “Sakai!” 

Ryuzo flinched as he was hauled around. Sakai was nearly as tall as Ryuzo now, his face almost hardened out of his boyish softness, his eyes burning over dark hollows as he snarled. “So, you return.” 

Taken aback by Sakai’s fury, Ryuzo said, “I left you a letter.” 

“I read it.” Sakai bared his teeth. “Do you think it’s funny to play with me like this? To make me live thinking you either died or abandoned me again? How dare you? All I’ve ever wanted was for you to love me, but you dismiss me, favour my brothers, and leave me when it suits you to leave!” 

Ryuzo slapped Sakai across the cheek, hard enough to jerk his head to a side. Sakai gasped, then glared at Ryuzo, the air around them chilling to freezing point. Ryuzo ignored it. “You little monster,” he grit out, “are you finished?” 

“You hit me!” 

“You deserved it! Look what you’ve done to this place. Haven’t you learned any self-control? It’s only been a year! To think I tried to negotiate some sort of ceasefire on your behalf. Forget it. I wash my hands of the lot of you. I’m leaving.” 

Ryuzo turned for the entrance of the temple, only for Sakai to grab his wrist, frowning. “What are you talking about? A ceasefire?” 

“Let go of me. Look for me when you’re done with your tantrum. Aren’t you too old for this?”

“Are you leaving? For another year?” Sakai’s rage fled him, replaced by desperation as he hugged Ryuzo tightly. “No. No.” 

“Get off. I don’t want to talk to you when you’re like this.” 

“Then don’t.” Sakai sniffled. “I missed you so much, and you’re going to leave me again? Why?”

Ryuzo took in a long breath and let it out. One person had to be the adult here. He patted Sakai’s back. “You’re unbearable sometimes, that’s why. I don’t know why I’m so fond of you.” 

Sakai looked up sharply. “You are?” 

“If I weren’t, why do I keep putting myself through your nonsense?” Ryuzo asked. 

Sakai made a strangled sound and leaned in, only to stop nervously short before their lips met. Ryuzo closed in the rest of the way, kissing Sakai gently, licking into his mouth. The warm body in his arms trembled, clutching at his shoulders, then at his cheeks as Sakai clumsily tried to kiss him back, sighing in pleasure. The air began to smell sweeter as they kissed, the temperature growing to a comfortable warmth. As they parted for breath, Ryuzo realised with a start that soft leaves covered the roots beneath their feet. Green shoots pushed past the barren ground outside, pale flowers dotting the overgrown engawa, bursting into bloom. 

“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” Sakai said, nuzzling Ryuzo’s throat. 

“You say that every time,” Ryuzo said, pinching him on the arm. “Let’s go talk to your uncle.”

Sakai frowned. “Why?” 

“Because there’s something that the two of you need to know. About the tennyo.”

#

“So that’s how they’ve been getting around the seal,” Lord Shimura said when Ryuzo finished describing his meeting with Masako. “They’ve been stepping outside the river of time, bringing anyone they wish to speak to along with them.” He inspected the flute that Ryuzo had handed over. “Interesting.” They sat within an inner chamber within Castle Shimura, which, like Minamoto Palace, looked thankfully untouched by Sakai’s tantrum.

“They’re willing to negotiate,” Ryuzo said again, in case either tenko decided to resort to murder.

“We could send Kurobo,” Sakai suggested. “He’s our direct kin, and might be seen as having the authority to speak on our behalf.” 

“Kurobo is only a seven-tailed. I’d send an eight,” Lord Shimura said. 

“There’s only one eight-tailed in our ranks right now, and Harunobu isn’t a diplomat by any measure,” Sakai said, looking troubled.

“He’s still the greatest swordsman that the kitsune have ever produced. As such, if it’s a trap, he should be able to get himself out of any predicament he faces. We’ll instruct him to be polite, but not to promise anything until the tennyo are willing to meet us directly and in good faith,” Lord Shimura said. 

“Shouldn’t someone sent to negotiate be good at it?” Ryuzo asked, frowning at them both. “I wasn’t looking to waste their time. Harunobu-san tends to prefer stabbing things over talking to them.” 

“He’ll be told how to behave. We don’t want war with the tennyo. Or with anyone,” Lord Shimura said. “I’m tired of losing family. Of so much death. But my sister earned us the right to live here, and I won’t allow us to be displaced.” 

“The tennyo didn’t use to live in Minamoto Palace but in the Senpou compound around Mount Kongo. We aren’t using that area at the moment. We could cede it back to them,” Sakai said. 

“We’d still need some sort of reassurance that they won’t attack us once they’re here. Sakai, summon Harunobu. He’ll need to be briefed extensively. As to you…” Lord Shimura paused as he eyed Ryuzo with an unreadable stare. “An unexpected gesture, from one of the yōkai.” 

Sakai bristled, but Ryuzo sniffed. “Really? This again?” 

“Yōkai had a hand in the death of my sister. In the death of my wife and child. I have no love for your kind—you’ve proven yourselves to be a merciless foe. I’ve tolerated your presence here because you appear to have a balancing effect on my nephew, one that I’ve always found suspicious. Still. I suppose perhaps not all yōkai are the same.” Lord Shimura waved them out.

Ryuzo started laughing again as they walked out of the castle. “Your uncle is never going to change.” 

“He was very rude,” Sakai said, scowling. 

“Him? He’s fine. The one I found rude caused a localised drought and then shouted all manner of accusations at me when I tried to stop it.” 

Sakai blushed, his gaze dropping to his feet. “I… I’m sorry about that.” 

“Are you? Hai, don’t talk about it now. Find Harunobu and get to work. I need a drink.”

#

Ryuzo woke up as a warm weight snuggled against him in his bedchamber in Minamoto Palace. He yawned, glancing down and tickling Sakai behind his ears. “Finished sending him off?”

“Harunobu will contact the tennyo tomorrow morning. He’d be preparing himself tonight for his task,” Sakai said.

“Which isn’t to murder them all, I hope.” Ryuzo had seen what Harunobu could do firsthand—the eight-tailed fox’s favourite past-time was duelling groups of other kitsune all at once, taking on all comers. 

“He’s been ordered to be diplomatic. Besides, he’s generally even-tempered.” 

“Not like you, hm?” Ryuzo poked Sakai on the nose.

“I’m even-tempered. Just not where you’re concerned,” Sakai said, climbing on top of Ryuzo with a scowl. 

“No comment,” Ryuzo said, laughing. “Wah, Lord Sakai, you’ve gotten heavy.” 

“Surely I’m no longer ‘just a child’,” Sakai said, looking fiercely at Ryuzo. “If you’re willing to kiss me, can’t we do everything else too?” 

“Isn’t that rather fast?”

“I’ve been waiting to do this with you for years,” Sakai said, rubbing against Ryuzo. Ryuzo yelped, grabbing for his hips to still him. “Would you still deny me?” 

“I haven’t decided whether I’m done being annoyed at your bullshit,” Ryuzo said, only partly joking. 

As Sakai tensed up, looking upset, Ryuzo relented a little. Besides. He’d wanted this too, and it looked like Sakai had suffered enough. Even if Sakai had dragged everyone else across the realms into suffering along with him. Ryuzo rolled them over, giving Sakai a lingering kiss that made him moan and wriggle eagerly under Ryuzo. They stripped down with growing urgency, shucking robes and armour and weapons. Sakai whined breathlessly once they were skin to skin, his golden tail tucking against Ryuzo’s thigh, his fingers tickling down Ryuzo’s spine. 

Having expected Sakai to be more hesitant, Ryuzo asked playfully, “Been getting practice without me?” 

Sakai frowned at him. “What?” 

“You’re more confident than I thought.” 

“I’ve been thinking of this often,” Sakai said, nuzzling Ryuzo’s throat. “Besides. When we tenko are reborn, we lose our memories, but some things are harder to lose. It’s why we relearn a blade more quickly than we should, among others.” 

“I think I recall your brothers mentioning this before,” Ryuzo said, kissing down Sakai’s chest to lick a nipple teasingly. “Something about how you used to have a lot of favourites.” 

“I don’t remember that. Even if it used to be true, it isn’t anymore,” Sakai said, tipping up Ryuzo’s chin to look tenderly into his eyes. “You’re the only one I want.” 

Ryuzo chuckled, kissing down Sakai’s belly to his eager cock, licking the tip. Sakai hissed under him, pushing against his mouth, hands clutching at his shoulders. Young as he was, once Ryuzo took Sakai into his mouth and sucked lightly he arched with a shout, scrabbling at Ryuzo as he released a hot spurt over Ryuzo’s tongue. Ryuzo drew back with a cough and a laugh, wiping his lips, but before he could make a playful comment, Sakai flipped them over. Sakai scrambled up to kiss Ryuzo fiercely, licking him clean with soft little groans. As he wiggled against Ryuzo’s belly, Sakai quickly grew hard again as Ryuzo kneaded his pert ass. 

“I want to mount you like this first,” Sakai said, squeezing Ryuzo’s thickened cock. “Then again on your knees. Then—”

“Oi, oi,” Ryuzo said, laughing. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

Sakai didn’t answer, instead pushing Ryuzo’s thighs apart and slipping a hand between them. His fingers grew slick like his brothers’ would as they pressed inside Ryuzo, making him shiver and spread his legs wider. Sakai ground his fingers in to the knuckles and Ryuzo arched with a whine, his jaw dropping open. This was somehow even more electric than it had been with either of Sakai’s brothers. Pleasure rocked through Ryuzo in waves, and as Sakai growled and pressed against the right spot within him, Ryuzo wailed and grabbed at Sakai’s wrist, coming between them. 

“I’m not even inside you yet,” Sakai said with a little frown, as Ryuzo lay panting on the futon, trying to catch his breath. 

“…You’re going to be the death of me,” Ryuzo said, and drew Sakai down to him for a breathless kiss.

#

“Somehow, I expected this to be more of a disaster,” Ryuzo admitted as he met Magokoro and Setsuko again at the corner of the newly re-established tennyo compound. The tennyo and her phoenix companion stood beside a bridge that appeared to be rebuilding itself over a long pool, rubble chucking itself out of the pool bed as Magokoro watched.

Magokoro smiled warmly at Ryuzo. “It’s good to see you again, Ryuzo-san. Thank you for the mochi. I hope you didn’t mind me sharing it with some of my sisters.” 

“Mai told me it would taste like a sugary eyeball and it didn’t,” Setsuko said sourly. “Was that a bad batch?” 

“What? It is _not_ meant to taste like eyeballs. Whatever that tastes like,” Ryuzo said, glowering at the phoenix.

“Tch! How boring.” Setsuko looked away, feathers fluffing. 

Magokoro tickled Setsuko under her chin. “Inspired idea to send that eight-tailed. Was it yours?” Magokoro asked.

“No? I thought it’d be a bad idea. Harunobu-san doesn’t talk much. When he does, he tends to say the first thing on his mind. Prefers to hit things with his sword. He wasn’t my first choice for an emissary,” Ryuzo said. 

“He was perfect in this case. Being very much like Lady Masako,” Magokoro said approvingly. “That’s why she agreed to all this. She likes him—they’re kindred spirits.” 

“She does? When I left Minamoto Palace, they were still duelling beside the falls. With actual swords. Bleeding everywhere.” Masako had been holding her own, though. Ryuzo hadn’t expected one of the tennyo to be that good at the blade. Weren’t they meant to be divine servant spirits? 

“Bloodshed should keep her occupied,” Setsuko said, glancing at the bridge. “I’m just happy to be back here without having to face down a couple of tenko across a battlefield.” 

“We—” Magokoro paused as she glanced past the compound, tilting her head. She smiled and bowed to Ryuzo. “Another time, perhaps. Thank you again.” 

Ryuzo didn’t see anything where she looked, but he nodded and walked toward it. Once out of the tennyo compound, Sakai grew visible beneath a tree. Ryuzo walked toward him with a laugh. "I thought you tenko can’t come into this bit of the Divine Realm. Isn’t that a crucial part of the peace treaty?” 

“I haven’t. I’m right outside the boundary.” Sakai pointed at the tree. “I didn’t like this stipulation.” 

“It made sense to me,” Ryuzo said. He hooked an arm around Sakai’s waist, pulling him back toward Minamoto Palace. “Besides, if you ever annoy me again, I have somewhere to escape to for a bit.” 

“Is that even still necessary? I’ve already agreed to be on my best behaviour from now on. Given you said you wouldn’t let me bed you unless I am.” Sakai pouted.

“Think of it as an extra failsafe,” Ryuzo said, kissing Sakai on his temple. “One that I’ll probably need now and then for my sanity. Now let’s go to the river, so I can show you how to fish.”

“You know what will happen if I try to fish.”

“We’re going to practice suppressing your aura or whatever it is. It’s the act of fishing that’s fun. You’re spoiling the activity for me right now.” During Ryuzo’s last attempt at fishing, he’d nearly gotten a concussion from a hamachi that cannonballed out of the water into his face. Sakai hadn’t even been anywhere nearby.

“I’ll try,” Sakai said with a solemn nod. 

Ryuzo patted his head. “Good, good.” It was going to be a nice, warm day.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @manic_intent  
> donation policy, my original stuff, writing process: manicintent.carrd.co


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